


high & dry

by seafoamblues



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bongs, Cock Piercing, Coffee Shops, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Gay Sex, Genital Piercing, Life Drawing, M/M, Marijuana, Masturbation, Nude Modeling, Oral Sex, Rimming, Smoking, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5336342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafoamblues/pseuds/seafoamblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Awkward art student Yifan thinks about his hopeless crush during figure drawing class more than he concentrates on sketching the scandalous nude model who has his dick pierced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	high & dry

**Author's Note:**

> **Ships:** Kyungsoo/Yifan (slight Jongdae/Junmyeon  & mentioned Chanyeol/Sehun)  
>  **Warnings:** recreational drug use (marijuana), sex while high, rimming, mentions of drug dealing, genital piercings
> 
> Originally posted at wufantastic & crossposted to my [Livejournal](http://seafoamblues.livejournal.com/5897.html).

_"Do whatever makes you happy, honey."_  
  
It was what Yifan's mother had said following his decision to pursue art and change his major after having studied business for three years, but he couldn't say he had been expecting _this_ : sitting on a stool with no backing and occasionally glancing up at a naked young man.  
  
Of course, all second semester art students were required to take Drawing II, which focused almost exclusively on figure drawing. He had known that and had taken special precautions, such as looking at photos of nude models on his tablet to mentally prepare himself for what was to come (and then getting distracted by porn, which totally ruined it because he wasn't going to become immune to _those_ unclothed bodies anytime soon), and choosing to wear boxer-shorts instead of loose-fitting, unreliable boxers before class every morning. But Yifan wondered how many students had the opportunity to see a Prince Albert up close and draw it from life.  
  
Their model was a wiry little person with a wraith-like waist but a nicely sculpted figure, easy on the eyes and not difficult to draw. He was probably a year or so younger than Yifan, and despite the stud gleaming in one of his earlobes, an unsuspecting person wouldn't guess that he had any metal _down there_. Yifan wasn't sure he was actually allowed to have it, as they attended a university that was slightly more conservative than the rest (even though half the student population smoked weed recreationally, but that's college for you), yet the art department was known for its slightly unorthodox and liberal ways of pedagogy and he guessed they were short on models – or students willing to pose in a variety of potentially exposing positions for several hours without any clothes on.  
  
Because Jongdae (that was his name – and he was pretty sure the students weren't supposed to know the model's identity unless they knew them personally, as per standard protocol) also teased the apt pupils relentlessly and shamelessly flirted with the T.A., Kim Junmyeon, whose embarrassment radiated waves of stifling awkwardness throughout the studio. But Jongdae's blatant flattery brought him obvious pleasure, and it made them all feel uncomfortable and more self-conscious when Jongdae should have been the one cowering in his spot. Besides, he didn't want to think about Jongdae taking out his dick piercing, since it seemed like a very precarious, delicate task and the idea wasn't something Yifan wanted to entertain.  
  
Jongdae's indiscretion always struck at the most inopportune times, like when Yifan had forgotten to jack off the night before lab and found himself with a very inappropriate boner in the middle of the two-and-a-half hour-long class. Unfortunately, Junmyeon had been lurking behind Yifan in his corner by the window (he claimed the sunlight helped him see the model and his canvas better, illuminating every dip and curve so he didn't have to squint or strain his eyes), and Jongdae seized that kairotic moment to shift positions, angling his ass toward the helpless T.A. and, consequently, Yifan. "Like what you see, _Junmen_?" His voice was dripping with salacity and suggestion, using his campus-deemed nickname lecherously: a combination of his name and "amen," because it was rumored that Junmyeon had once been a stuffy choir boy (but what was he doing as a T.A. for a life drawing class, Yifan wondered), and proceeded to make obscene hand gestures in his direction. While Junmyeon sputtered incoherently and slunk away wearing a constipated expression, his face red and bright as a tomato as he retreated to his specially-appointed teaching assistant's desk to dab his neck with a handkerchief, Yifan was left watching Jongdae's perfectly round ass forlornly and slowly getting an erection.  
  
The snarky nude model was only inadvertently turning him on, however. He had a nice body that Yifan wouldn't mind boning, but he wasn't on the Junmyeon level of wanting to be boned to death by him and his dick piercing, which he imagined would create quite an interesting and unique sensation against one's— you know. Anyway, he didn't think he could stand having sex with Jongdae, because he seemed like the type who would be loud and obnoxious, like those bad porno actors in the films that never managed to make him come. Jongdae's mere presence overwhelmed him, despite being so small and compact, but luckily he didn't have it as bad as Junmyeon, because that was just downright embarrassing. Jongdae only chose to target Yifan occasionally, probably because he was amused by the fact that such a tall, intimidating-looking man could become bewildered and thoroughly perplexed by just a few compromising words.  
  
Jongdae wasn't the only person that made Yifan fall apart, though. He wasn't particularly good with words or interacting with others, especially those who flustered him beyond belief and turned him into a bumbling idiot. The One Person who had that effect on him was Do Kyungsoo, virtually flawless voice major and also (much to Yifan's chagrin) one of the most popular boys on campus.  
  
_"Do whatever makes you happy, honey."_  
  
All of this that was happening in class was not what made him happy. What made him happy was remembering back to earlier that morning, when he had made Kyungsoo his drink at the small local coffee shop he worked at. He recalled the brush of his fingertips against his own when he handed him his drink, the slight smile that curved along his full, pink lips and the clarity of his gaze. And now Yifan was sitting in a puddle of his own out-of-control hormones, which he thought he'd have long since mastered, as he was twenty-two years old and not a teenager anymore. He had once foolishly assumed thinking about his crush was a harmless pastime that sometimes helped distract him from Jongdae's protruding ass (but also made his lines a little too sketchy and vague), or helped the two-and-a-half hour stretch pass by quicker. At least it wasn't as boring as first semester still life drawings, where they had to draw exciting inanimate objects such as dusty old volumes and tennis balls.  
  
It was his roommate Chanyeol who constantly advised him to get laid – you could say, Yifan's biggest advocate for losing his Art Major Virginity (as he hadn't had sex since changing his concentration last semester, and maybe that was because of the shy, clueless art student façade he had going on, which wasn't so much a façade as The Real Deal; but no one wanted to bang a starving artist over a successful businessman) – and now he was paying for not listening to his words of wisdom.  
  
Besides, he hadn't really noticed Kyungsoo until he switched majors, and his new schedule allowed him more time and different hours, which happened to coincide well with Kyungsoo's. He also thought that maybe it was because studying art had opened his eyes to newfound aesthetics, or seeing life in a different way, past the girls who were taking business classes only so they could marry a rich entrepreneur who would buy them fancy rings and things (which had drained Yifan of so much money his first three years of university). Do Kyungsoo had a cherubic face he wanted to draw but didn't know how, because how could his big clumsy hands replicate such ethereal perfection? He wanted to trace the slope of his elegant neck with his lips, paint the brown of his eyes so they seemed to come to life on his canvas, observing his soul. Thinking about that boy made him feel such a complexity of emotions: happiness and hope and despair all muddled together at once. There was also the unfortunate horniness that he couldn't seem to shake, when all he wanted to think of were cute things like holding Kyungsoo's hand and going on sappy dates with him.  
  
Yifan looked down at his watch impatiently. One more hour of suffering through Jongdae's merciless routine of trying to get Junmyeon into bed with him, one hour to will away his boner and stop thinking about Kyungsoo with the stimulation of a provocative body set on display in front of him.  
  
_"Do whatever makes you happy, honey."_ Well, Yifan wasn't doing Do Kyungsoo right then so he wasn't exactly doing what made him happy, but he supposed this was better than any old business and leadership class he had wasted his time with. His mother hadn't been too concerned with her son, who had left her in Vancouver to pursue business administration in Seoul, Korea, of all places, and his change in plans. His major had been boring and stressful and he had felt caged, restricted to achieving greatness in ways he didn't want. Besides, he didn't exactly need those classes in order to become a successful CEO, if that's truly what he wanted out of life. There were plenty of entrepreneurs who never even went to college, or had flunked out of it. Take Bill Gates for example: one of the most successful men in the world and he was making bank. It wasn't because of the nonexistent diploma on his office wall, either.  
  
Yifan guessed his mother didn't want him to follow in the footsteps of his father, who they hadn't seen since he was a year old, and was some director of some huge company in Hong Kong or something. He had searched him up out of idle curiosity back in high school, but all he was truly interested in was the hefty childcare check that came in the mail every couple of months, despite Yifan being well past the age of legal obligation. His dad probably thought he was still sixteen. Yifan was glad he was no longer sixteen, because that year had been hell and his crush on pretty boy Luhan, fellow player on the basketball team, had caused him one too many uncontrollable hard-ons and sleepless nights that he regretted. It had been worse than his crush on Kyungsoo, that was for certain. Now he was more mature and Luhan had moved back to Beijing, taking his angelic facial features with him. Good riddance to hopeless locker room romances, to poor handjobs and sloppy two-minute blowjobs.  
  
His mother supported him through email and telephone thousands of miles away, and he was thankful for that. She didn't nag unless he wanted her to. Sometimes he'd call her up at night when the time zones matched up, lying back on his bed and telling her about his day, about the most recent assignment in Painting I, and hearing the static through the line, threatening to cut off her impeccable Chinese, the language he missed hearing and speaking in. Occasionally he thought of bringing up Kyungsoo, but he hadn't even talked to him yet besides the few words they exchanged at the coffee shop, so that would be stupid.  
  
He had started his job there because it was part-time work and he didn't require much of a paycheck, as the guilt-money or show-off money – whichever it was – from his biological father and his scholarships had Yifan pretty much set for college life. There was something romantic about being a barista at such a quaint little place, even though he oftentimes had to clean the restrooms and sweep the floor and wipe down the counters. It was one of those cozy houses made entirely of brick and wood that smelled richly of freshly-ground whole coffee beans from the tropics. It was decked out with billowy sofas and loveseats, chairs and small wooden tables that were slightly worn down from use. Yifan chose that over an occupation like his roommate's, who delivered jjajangmyun and pizza to college students, and _sometimes_ jjampong if you asked nicely (or were Yifan). At the shop, he could relax and work on his homework during the hours they weren't busy, and he could also interact with Kyungsoo (i.e. stare at him and stutter over the normal words exchanged in a business transaction setting).  
  
Yifan liked Kyungsoo because he was well-mannered and kind, but without overdoing it, and because he got cool, manly drinks like espressos and americanos – none of that frilly sugary shit like his small stature would suggest. It was also easier to make those kinds of drinks, without all the extra fluff, and Yifan appreciated that. Also, Kyungsoo looked really adorable. In the wintertime he'd come in the coffee shop all wrapped up in a scarf and huge puffy coat, barely discernible except for his pink cheeks. He'd visibly deflate and relax in the heated building, beautiful lips slightly chapped but that was all right because Yifan wanted to kiss them anyway. Yifan was in charge of drawing the menu in colourful chalk every morning, a job that he enjoyed doing very much, and at times he'd see Kyungsoo walk past and wave at him through the glass, which was also decorated with swirling drawings he'd done by hand. His heart would start beating too rapidly in his chest, feeling like it was trying to leap into throat, and he would smile his gummy smile as he watched Kyungsoo's slight form disappear around a corner.  
  
The art major had entertained starting a conversation with Kyungsoo at the shop, maybe briefly excusing himself from work if they weren't too busy to have a cup of coffee with him, or approaching him on campus; but Kyungsoo, being one of the most popular kids at their university, was almost always surrounded by a group of people, and groups of people intimidated Yifan. Besides, what would he say? "Uh, hey, I like you, I think you're real cute, so uh – go out with me, please?" That's probably how it would go, only more disastrous, because whatever came out of Yifan's mouth always ended up sounding dumber than he'd intended. So instead he observed Kyungsoo quietly from afar, pining over him like some lovesick, hopeless puppy.  
  
Since Kyungsoo was studying voice and choral, it had come to mind that Yifan could ask him for private singing lessons. He liked singing Chinese ballads to himself when no one was around (so they didn't have to be subjected to his lack of pitch), and he had an interest in rapping, but the mere thought of "private lessons" with Kyungsoo, alone, made his palms begin to sweat. His imagination really needed to be reprimanded. It was too bold of an approach, anyway, and a feat Yifan would never be able to achieve. He'd only embarrass himself, which he did too often, anyway.  
  
It was barely two months into the new semester and Yifan was still struggling with his abundance of art supplies. He was a big guy – really tall – but lacked significant strength, balance, and coordination. Basketball hadn't been too hard on him, but after three and a half years of college, he'd lost some of his athleticism that had helped him out before. These days he mostly sat on the couch with his laptop doing research and reports for his other classes or drawing and painting in his room (Chanyeol didn't like it when he got paint all over the living room).  
  
The art major was making his treacherous trek across campus from his apartment to the art building, which was a good mile's distance or so, when his massive portfolio began to slip off his shoulder. He grunted and came to a halt, pausing to adjust the strap and put down his toolbox. When he looked up – or rather, down – he saw that the box containing all his art supplies was in someone else's hand: someone who was significantly shorter than him.  
  
"Need any help?"  
  
He was met with full lips and a heart-shaped smile and oh god, he was really fucking smitten, wasn't he? Do Kyungsoo was standing in front of him, _talking_ to him on his own accord.  
  
Wow.  
  
So of course, he started blubbering like a complete and total idiot.  
  
"Um, I— I guess so? Uh— yeah, okay, thanks."  
  
"It's no problem," the other boy said breezily, his smile growing wider. Yifan felt like he was growing faint. He stopped himself from swooning like some over-dramatic princess, though, and struggled on.  
  
"You're, um, strong for your . . . size," he commented lamely, mentally face-palming after the words left his mouth. Would he take insult to that? Some people were really sensitive about their height and stature if they were on the lacking side.  
  
Kyungsoo appeared unfazed, laughing him off. "It isn't that heavy," he said. "Besides, I work out."  
  
"You do?" Yifan couldn't stop his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise. Do Kyungsoo was even more perfect than he had originally thought.  
  
"Ah, it's nothing major – I just work on my shoulders because they're pretty disparaging," he quickly explained as they walked together toward the art building. _He even knows big words,_ Yifan thought dreamily.  
  
"Your shoulders are cute." Oh my god. Oh my god, had he really just said that? This was why he didn't talk to people, _especially_ people he had a crush on. "I'm sorry," he sputtered in apology. Word vomit. Disgusting. If he hadn't taken offense to the comment on his small physique, he probably would to this one.  
  
Kyungsoo's eyes went wide. "You think so?" He dropped his gaze to the ground momentarily, kicking at a stray piece of unearthed grass. "Hmm," he mused it over; "I don't think I'm cute."  
  
"Yeah, you aren't at all, I'm sorry," Yifan blurted out, wincing again. He was saying everything wrong. He'd dreamed of the day he could talk to Kyungsoo, but he was fucking things up royally. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out: to forget Kyungsoo's name, his existence, and his own while he was at it.  
  
His shorter companion probably decided to switch subjects to save Yifan from further embarrassment. "What's your name?" Yifan hesitated. He'd probably say something ridiculous if he didn't wait a moment to gather his thoughts. Funny how something as simple and innate as his name could be forgotten around his crush. "I hope I'm not assuming too much by saying that you already know mine? Since you don't even have to ask for it anymore when I order my coffee," he said casually. Yifan had memorized Kyungsoo's name not long after he became attracted to him, scrawling his messy Hangul on his cup like it was instinct. He liked calling out Kyungsoo's name whenever his drink was done being made, too, eventually learning to control the blush that crept up on his cheeks every time he said it. It was a nice name. It also wasn't a bad name to say in bed. _Oops._  
  
"Yifan," he managed. "Wu Yifan." He'd have to pat himself on the back for a job well done once he got home. Business class was at least good for something: he'd mastered introductions and sounded professional doing it.  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Yifan." Kyungsoo flashed him another heart-stopping, heart-melting smile before coming to a stop at the art building's entrance. Handing him the toolbox, Yifan ended up nearly dropping it on account of sweaty hands. He had just walked next to and talked to Do Kyungsoo for over five minutes. It was an accomplishment that would last the semester.  
  
"Thanks," he said, "for helping." He didn't know why Kyungsoo would go out of his way to help someone like him, but he wasn't complaining. His heartbeat was thudding loudly in his chest and he felt like he had reached nirvana, despite the lingering embarrassment he'd felt getting there.  
  
"Any time." The boy's full lips curved into a smile. "I'll see you later, then. Bye!" With a jovial wave he was off, and Yifan watched his retreating form numbly. _"See you later"?_ Was that implying he'd see him later, as in outside of their regular encounters at the coffee shop at least three times a week? He told himself not to get his hopes up and lugged his art materials up to the third floor where his class was located. Jongdae made a snide remark about him looking like he was in a daze, but soon grew bored by his lack of reaction and targeted Junmyeon instead. Yifan messed up several of his lines, making his drawing of Jongdae look like he was pregnant at one point and didn't bother correcting them. His thoughts were too focused on Kyungsoo to concentrate, so he struggled through the long duration of class and went home still thinking about him: his smile, his lips, his voice.  
  


-

  
The next time Yifan saw Kyungsoo was on an incredibly windy day, which reminded him of the old _Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day_ movie he'd watched as a kid. But instead of being blown away like Pooh and Piglet (except maybe he had been: he was blown away by Kyungsoo every time he saw him, for lack of better words), his flimsy loose-leaf drawings were ripped from his hands by a sudden vicious gust and went flying across the school grounds. He cursed and scrambled to gather them up – because no one wanted to see giant sketches of a random naked guy – when he spotted the absolute worst person to walk up at that moment. The small vocal major picked up one of the large 24" x 36" sheets and Yifan cursed again, this time inaudibly, heat flaring up on his entire face and embarrassment painfully gripping his heart.  
  
"Uh . . ." He said intelligently, at loss of words. No hasty excuses or apologies spilled from his mouth; he was dumbstruck in shock.  
  
Kyungsoo studied one of the drawings intently, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. All though Yifan desperately wanted to hide his face in his hands or look away – or just disappear forever, if it were possible – he glanced at which unfortunate sketch Kyungsoo was holding. It was Jongdae in a rather compromising position, his Prince Albert visible on his soft cock. Yifan instantly regretted including it in the drawing. Drawing I had taught him to draw exactly from life – no embellishments or exclusions – and so it hurt him to leave out any details. He wished it was one of his earlier sketches of Jongdae, when he hadn't been able to bring himself to draw his dick. In his first drawing Jongdae had resembled a Ken doll, minus the muscular build. When class-wide critiques rolled around, his professor had frowned at him discouragingly.  
  
"What is this?" he demanded.  
  
"I-it's my drawing, sir," Yifan stammered out. He wrung his hands in his lap nervously, feeling a sweat start to break out on his forehead.  
  
"Are you a prude, Mr. Wu?" Snickers travelled across the room. Jongdae cackled somewhere in the background.  
  
"Wh-what?" He had never considered himself a prude before. The T.A. looked like he could be one, though.  
  
"I said, are you a prude? Is it against your religion to draw a male's genitals?"  
  
"Oh . . ." His lips twitched. "N-no, sir."  
  
"Does our nude model have a penis?"  
  
He closed his eyes. This wasn't happening. He was going to cry. "Y-yes, sir?"  
  
"And does he have testicles?"  
  
"Y-yes, sir. He does."  
  
"I would hope so," Jongdae remarked.  
  
"Then I'd like to see them on your drawing of him next time." Yifan realized his statement made his professor sound like a pervert, but he kept his mouth shut.  
  
"Yes, sir. Absolutely. Will do," he replied. _I'll try, at least._ He had slunk out of the room feeling like complete shit. He hated Drawing II. That was it. He was dropping the class. He couldn't possibly go on after suffering through such public ridicule.  
  
Jongdae clapped him on the shoulder from behind, startling him. He murmured in his ear, probably having to stand on his tip-toes to overcome the jarring height difference. "You know, I can get you more acquainted with my genitals, if you want," he purred suggestively. "To help you get over your shyness, of course."  
  
Yifan's heart sank and he was positive his face was an almost inhuman shade of red. "Uh—"  
  
"This isn't just a one-time offer," Jongdae informed him, removing his hand and smirking with his wicked feline lips. "Come to me anytime this semester and I'll see what I can do. I can give you an exclusive close-up for better character study." With that he slipped back into the classroom, leaving Yifan shaking and his throat constricted like he'd downed something too large for him to swallow.  
  
Yifan had never taken up Jongdae's offer, of course. He wasn't interested in the model – not significantly, anyway – and _he_ certainly didn't have the balls to approach him. The next time the art student had to draw him, he added a conveniently-placed fig leaf to cover his crotch.  
  
"Is this a children's Bible, Mr. Wu? Is our model the New Age Adam?"  
  
He eventually learned to just bite his lower lip and draw the damn penis. It wasn't like he'd never seen one before; only, he'd never had the opportunity to see a pierced one until he met Jongdae.  
  
Now Kyungsoo, who he'd already made a fool of himself in front of just days before, had seen his racy drawings. Hopefully he'd understand – he must know he was studying art – but it was still alarming no matter the situation. He couldn't force himself to look somewhere else and instead waited for some kind of reaction, cringing inwardly. Kyungsoo pursed his lips briefly before opening his mouth to speak.  
  
"Oh, it's Jongdae," he said nonchalantly. Yifan's jaw dropped.  
  
"Y-you know him?" What kind of connections did this Do Kyungsoo have? Of course, he was one of the most popular students in the university, so it was natural for him to know many people. But _Jongdae_ , of all people—  
  
"Sure I do," he replied like knowing a nude model wasn't strange at all. His eyes swept up and down Jongdae's sketched figure, examining the composition at arm's length. "You drew him really well. He looks just like he does in real life."  
  
"You've seen him naked?!" He promptly shut his mouth. _Good going, Yifan. Real smooth._ He actually really didn't want to know whether Kyungsoo had seen Jongdae naked before, but maybe he'd taken an art class as an elective in the past.  
  
Kyungsoo merely laughed, avoiding the question. "Keep up the good work, hyung," he encouraged, nodding to the drawing and handing it back to him. Yifan snatched it from him and hastily shoved it back into his portfolio. He had to turn that one in later and he hoped his professor wouldn't bitch about it being wrinkled. His heart was beating erratically in his chest because of Kyungsoo's words. _Hyung._ He had called him hyung. _Be still, my heart._ A warmth filled his whole body and when he snapped out of it, Kyungsoo was gone.  
  


-

  
"Would you like to hang out sometime?"  
  
"Huh?" Yifan almost spilled Kyungsoo's drink over before handing it to him.  
  
Kyungsoo's hands encircled the Styrofoam mug, his fingers brushing against Yifan's for less than a second (but it felt to him like a lifetime). He had nice hands, the barista thought. He reckoned they'd feel nice on his ass—  
  
"I was saying if you'd like to hang out sometime," he repeated a bit more slowly so Yifan could suspend his disbelief and comprehend what he was asking, "maybe?"  
  
Kyungsoo? Hanging out with him? Do Kyungsoo?  
  
"Uh, sure. That'd be cool."  
  
The smaller boy gave him a pleased smile. "Great. When are you free?"  
  
They decided on a date and place; Yifan gave him the address to his apartment and Kyungsoo would meet him there after class Friday afternoon. After Kyungsoo left the coffee shop he let out the breath he'd been holding and groaned (causing a few curious looks in his direction from any customers). What had he done? The apartment was nothing short of a mess. He'd only embarrass himself further, but at least he'd be on his own turf. When he got home he'd do some serious cleaning.  
  
Friday came quicker than he expected. When the doorbell rang he was on the verge of hyperventilating, but he forced himself to take a deep breath to regulate his breathing. Surely it was too late to pass out now.  
  
"Someone at the door?" Chanyeol asked with a hint of interest, lifting his head from the coffee table where he'd been resting. Sometimes his roommate liked shoving his nose into everything, and that was why he hadn't told him Kyungsoo would be coming over. He probably should have, though, so he wouldn't start snooping. Chanyeol tended to hover, and Yifan didn't want Kyungsoo to feel uncomfortable or take offense to an intrusive, unwarned for presence.  
  
He had met Chanyeol his second semester at university and they'd hit it off right away; or at least, the younger boy instantly became attached to his side and Yifan didn't have the heart or the means to shake him off. Chanyeol was sort of his only friend in Korea besides a couple Chinese exchange students he talked to on occasion. The music major practically begged Yifan to room with him, and at the start of the new year they moved into their new shared apartment and had lived together ever since. Park Chanyeol was sometimes annoying and almost always loud but he was still pretty chill, especially to hang with. Yifan didn't mind having him around; it made him feel less lonely.  
  
Chanyeol also supplied him with a decent amount of weed, so that was another plus. In fact, he was rolling up a joint right then as Yifan opened the door, figuring it was as good a time as any to start the weekend with a bang, guests be damned. They weren't stoners by any means, but whenever Chanyeol had enough money left over after his paycheck, he'd indulge in whatever he could get. He shared his stash with Yifan when he asked from time to time – he was a very generous and easy-going person, believing in communal values, which did fit the stoner mythos ( _"mi casa es su casa; mi marijuana es su marijuana, man"_ ) – and they mostly did it to unwind from the stress of school and work. The two of them refrained from going overboard ever since the time they'd both gotten high as kites; Yifan had been convinced he could fly (a dream he'd had as a child: he used to run around with his underwear over his pants and pretend he was Superman), and with Chanyeol's enthusiastic goading, had almost leapt off the balcony. But no matter how much weed he'd smoked he still had enough sense and not enough balls to jump from the 21st floor.  
  
Oh Sehun was Chanyeol's kind-of dealer, a kid younger than them that worked at a frozen yogurt shop. He was perpetually stoned but still managed to maintain straight A's in college. The boy was majoring in some field of engineering and he and Chanyeol were maybe dating, or just fucking; Yifan hadn't gotten as far as inquiring about it. Whatever they were doing, they did it when Yifan wasn't around, for which he was grateful.  
  
"Um, yeah, hold on," Yifan said in response to Chanyeol's question, opening the door.  
  
Kyungsoo stood in the doorway, lips twitching into a smile as he looked up at Yifan.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hey," he said, proud of how he hadn't faltered over his words this time even though dread filled his stomach like a toxin.  
  
The shorter boy shifted the strap of his messenger bag on his slight shoulder, looking as adorable as ever. Yifan blinked back into focus.  
  
"Uh, right. Come on in," he invited belatedly, standing aside so Kyungsoo could move past him and into the apartment.  
  
Chanyeol was in the middle of taking a drag when Kyungsoo walked in, slinging his bag to the floor next to the couch he was sitting on. The smoker's eyebrow quirked almost comically. "You're friends with this loser, Kyungsoo?" he said in the friendliest tone possible.  
  
"Guess so," Kyungsoo replied, giving Chanyeol an amused smile. "How are you doing, Chanyeol?"  
  
Chanyeol exhaled smoke and waved the resulting cloud away, laughing uproariously.  
  
"I'll be damned! Come on, sit down. Want me to roll you one?" He reached for the baggy of weed with one hand and paper with the other.  
  
"Don't be wasteful, Chanyeol. Just lemme take a hit," Kyungsoo said, taking a seat next to him on the couch.  
  
Yifan stood off to the side, watching the two of them blankly. He felt oddly isolated and out-of-place. How did Do Kyungsoo know so many people? "I guess you two know each other?"  
  
"We went to high school together!" Chanyeol slung a long arm around Kyungsoo's narrow shoulders, pulling him close. He passed him the joint and Kyungsoo held it delicately between his two fingers. "Me 'n' Soo were a grade apart, but we were both in marching band."  
  
"Those were dark days," Kyungsoo said mysteriously, keeping his voice low. He held the joint up to his lips and took a long drag. Yifan zoomed in on his mouth, mesmerized by the way his lips wrapped around the circumference of the blunt. The boy pulled it out daintily once he was finished, like he'd done it a thousand times before, lips parting as he closed his eyes and breathed out tendrils of smoke. Yifan always thought weed smelled like ass but his heart was singing and Kyungsoo could be exhaling an aphrodisiac for all he knew, intoxicating his senses. Kyungsoo didn't look like the type to smoke recreationally, taking Yifan aback. Then again, he didn't look like the type to know nude models with dick piercings, either. He was impressed (not about the second part, though). But of course: Kyungsoo had probably smoked weed at all the parties he went to, since that's what popular, well-liked people did, right?  
  
He forced himself to stop staring, ripping his eyes away after Kyungsoo handed the joint back to Chanyeol. Kyungsoo raised his eyes to Yifan (he wondered how much wider they'd look dilated), motioning for him to sit down. He patted the space next to him on the couch invitingly and Yifan reluctantly took it. The art major attempted to take up as little room as possible, trying to make himself smaller and more compact so he didn't intrude upon Kyungsoo's space. Actually, he just didn't know how to handle accidentally touching him, if the situation happened to present itself.  
  
"So how'd you guys meet?" Chanyeol inquired, lazing back on the sofa with his arm still around Kyungsoo's shoulders. It was a casual gesture, not at all possessive, but it still made Yifan feel a little uneasy. He always felt awkward, really, but now he was starting to get third-wheel vibes. He was supposed to be the one hanging out with Kyungsoo, not Chanyeol.  
  
"I go to the coffee shop Yifan works at," Kyungsoo explained.  
  
"Oh, yeah? That little old place?"  
  
"Hey," Yifan interjected defensively. He was protective about his job.  
  
"I like it," Kyungsoo admitted. "It's really nice. Yifan's really nice, too," he added, casting him a glance. Yifan froze.  
  
They spent more time talking and getting to know each other in between drags, and Yifan quickly felt himself growing more at ease around Kyungsoo. He didn't know if it was the drug's relaxing, confidence-inspiring effects, or if he was simply overcoming his tension on his own. At one point Kyungsoo clambered up on his lap, perching himself right on one of his thighs. Kyungsoo was so comfortable around him that it threw him off-guard. He pulled Yifan's hands into his lap and started playing with them absent-mindedly while listening to Chanyeol prattle on about something. Yifan held his breath, the gentle caresses of Kyungsoo's fingers stroking his sending little shocks to his heart.  
  
"Your thighs make nice cushions," Kyungsoo commented slyly. Yifan only hoped Kyungsoo couldn't feel his rapidly growing boner, too.  
  
The boy claimed he had somewhere to be later that night and left not long after. Yifan was relieved to have a reprieve from acting as Kyungsoo's chair and sunk back into the couch once he was gone. His eyelids slid shut and he tried not to think too much about what had just happened, but his mind was racing and Chanyeol was saying something in his ear.  
  
"He's a really cool kid, I was glad to see him again."  
  
Yifan dismissed himself and went to bed early. Like most nights he lied in bed and held his cock in his fist, jerking off to the image of Kyungsoo; phantom touches and phantom promises.  
  


-

  
He'd heard a rumor that T.A. Junmen and nude model Jongdae were fucking, and the next time he attended class it couldn't be more obvious. Jongdae had finally succeeded in getting into Junmyeon's pants, it seemed, and their displays of courtship during lab was making Yifan feel nauseated. Instead of having to endure the awkwardness that was Jongdae hitting on the T.A. and said T.A. not reciprocating, he now had to suffer through hours of their sappy declarations of affection and suggestions on what things they'd get up to later that night. Yifan wanted to tell them how gross they were being but he kept silent, afraid he'd vomit if he opened his mouth to speak. Instead he thought about Kyungsoo (as usual) and got hard (as usual). Luckily Jongdae and Junmyeon's interactions killed his boner, but he couldn't help but imagine what he and Kyungsoo would be like together, if they had a relationship like that. He wanted to be in the honeymoon stage with Kyungsoo, too, god dammit.  
  
But they weren't even in the courting stage, Yifan reminded himself, and went home feeling disappointed.  
  
Kyungsoo came over to his apartment again less than a week later, and this time Chanyeol wasn't there. He was out with Sehun doing something or other that Yifan didn't care enough to know about. Yifan had already taken a few hits from the bong (decorated with an assortment of stickers such as yellow smiley-faces, rainbow peace signs, and _My Little Pony_ , courtesy of Chanyeol) to prepare his mind and body for another encounter. This time he'd be alone with Kyungsoo and he didn't know what to expect except potential disaster.  
  
"Chanyeol isn't here?" he asked after sitting down on the couch for just a few minutes, glancing around the living room. His hands were folded neatly in his lap and his voice sounded disarmingly innocent.  
  
"No, he's with his boyfriend-thing," Yifan told him.  
  
"Good," he said. "So we're alone."  
  
"Y-yes." Kyungsoo didn't reply, making Yifan hesitate. "Is that okay . . . ?"  
  
"Oh! Of course," he said quickly, smiling as to not discourage him.  
  
It had been nagging at Yifan for a while: a small, bothersome curiosity that didn't leave him alone. He decided to raise the question regarding Jongdae after passing the bong between them for a while.  
  
"So, uh," he started, trying to make the question appear as casual as possible (and ultimately failing), "you never told me about . . . about Jongdae?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." Kyungsoo idly picked at a peeling Pinkie Pie sticker with a fingernail. "We dated for a bit last year."  
  
"Oh." All right. "That explains it, then." And curse his curiosity: "Did he have . . . ?"  
  
"His dick piercing?" He said it so bluntly that Yifan cringed.  
  
". . Yes."  
  
"Mmm. He told me he wanted one since high school."  
  
Big dreams.  
  
"That must have felt, uh. Interesting."  
  
Kyungsoo laughed. "I wouldn't know."  
  
Thank god. Yifan didn't want to imagine Jongdae fucking Kyungsoo: he felt like his entire body would reject that piece of information.  
  
But Kyungsoo continued.  
  
"I mean, when I was going down on him, yeah . . ." He brushed some hair back from his forehead, leaning in closer to Yifan. His face inched nearer. "It's really sensitive, of course." A lazy smirk curved across his full lips. Yifan wasn't breathing: he'd forgotten how. "You probably don't have a piercing down there, do you, Yifan?" He placed a hand on his thigh, the other on his hip. "But how sensitive are you without one?" Kyungsoo crawled into his lap, straddling him effortlessly. He sank down until he was fully seated on Yifan's thighs, pinning him in place. "I think I'd like to find out. I think you're probably very sensitive, right?"  
  
"Kyung . . . soo . . ." His words trailed off into a mere squeak, unsure. His voice had lost its ability to function, cut off short.  
  
Kyungsoo was a predator. His dark brown eyes regarded him alertly, determination set in his gaze. His pupils were blown but they still pinpointed him so easily, staring their target – his prey – down intensely. Kyungsoo molded their lips together and they were so warm and soft, but he pressed harder, clutching at Yifan's shirt collar and dragging the taller boy toward him. He kissed him eagerly, like he'd been waiting to do this for a while – Yifan couldn't convince himself this was the case, however – and it took a while for Yifan to register what was happening and to slowly start kissing him back. He rested his hands on Kyungsoo's tiny hips and Kyungsoo wrapped his arms around his neck, angling his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue poked at his lower lip and Yifan wasn't even surprised at how he let his mouth fall open for Kyungsoo, allowing his tongue to trace his lips and lick at his teeth.  
  
A moan slipped past Yifan's throat as Kyungsoo pushed his tongue further, licking into his mouth and conquering whatever Yifan had to give. He melted against the couch, letting Kyungsoo's body cover his. Every sensation was intensified due to the psychedelic: the kissing felt so good, so unreal – better than anything he'd had before – that he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or experiencing reality in the most enlightened way. Kyungsoo rocked against him, moaning too – he was enjoying this as well, and that knowledge alone made Yifan's dick twitch with want – and detached their lips so he could kiss down Yifan's throat. He sucked at the tender skin and Yifan knew he'd get hickeys there but he didn't care: he wanted Kyungsoo to leave his marks.  
  
Yifan never actively considered himself a submissive person when it came to sex, but Kyungsoo turned into someone so confident and domineering, almost borderline aggressive, that Yifan _wanted_ to be dominated by him; he craved it. When his shirt was lifted off of him Kyungsoo closed his lips around his nipple, licking and sucking and making him keen and arch his back. He dropped lower, kissing along his stomach and biting softly, lips sweeping down beneath his belly button and above his groin. The smaller boy dexterously unfastened his belt and unzipped his jeans, shoving them down his legs. His boxers came next, freeing his cock that bounced to attention, curving upwards against his belly. Kyungsoo's breath on the head of his cock made him whine breathlessly, air mixing with the wetness from the precum that had leaked out.  
  
But he neglected his cock in favor of his thighs, licking thick stripes up the insides with the flat of his tongue and treading dangerously close to his genitals, but never in direct contact with them. Yifan whined again, bucking his hips to try and gain Kyungsoo's attention, who was busying himself sucking bright red blotches onto his pale thighs.  
  
"Kyungsoo, p-please," he begged, cinching his eyes shut. His fingers were trembling and he was tempted to reach down and curl his hand around his cock if Kyungsoo wouldn't. Maybe he could force Kyungsoo down on his cock instead—  
  
Kyungsoo's tongue licking at his balls interrupted his thoughts and his eyes fluttered opened, watching Kyungsoo's tongue dart out and swipe against his skin as he gasped lightly. It felt _sofuckinggood_ that he encouraged him by repeating _"yes, yes, yes"_ over and over again under his breath, causing Kyungsoo's ministrations to slow down and speed back up, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin of his balls. He licked up his perineum, stirring a whimper from his throat, and flicked his tongue against his puckered hole. Yifan jerked in place, his cock following a similar motion. This wasn't anything he'd experienced before but the wetness was a nice feeling that he could definitely get used to. Kyungsoo lapped at his hole some more, the tip of his tongue circling the tightened rim and wriggling against the tender flesh. He pushed it inside gradually and Yifan's mouth fell open in a long, drawn-out moan. _Fuck._  
  
His tongue slid in and out of him, stretching him wider and going deeper each time. He felt himself loosening up, the nerves in that dampened area tingling and waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Yifan didn't know whether it was minutes or an hour later when Kyungsoo lifted his head, dark eyes seeking his own. The emptiness he experienced when Kyungsoo's tongue was no longer inside of him made him whimper again, licking his lips hastily.  
  
"What is it?" he breathed when he felt he could speak again, holding Kyungsoo's hungry gaze.  
  
Kyungsoo shook his head lightly before grabbing around the base of his cock and putting his mouth over it. Warm, wet heat engulfed his length as he sank further, bobbing his head. Yifan put fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp while moaning hoarsely and throwing his head back.  
  
"So sensitive, just like I thought," Kyungsoo murmured, lips tickling the head of his cock before covering it again with his mouth.  
  
He lifted his hips slightly, thrusting into Kyungsoo's slick mouth. When he glanced down he nearly came just looking at those lips stretched around his cock, but Kyungsoo slid off before he could. The smaller boy rose and pecked him on the mouth, considered for a moment, and then kissed him languidly. Yifan tasted bitterness on his tongue and realized it was from him.  
  
When Kyungsoo broke away for air they were both gasping for it, desperately trying to fill their lungs. Yifan's heart was beating rapidly in his chest and throat simultaneously, as if it had split into two and one piece had been carried away and up his esophagus.  
  
"Bedroom?" It wasn't much of a question, Yifan supposed, but an order. Kyungsoo gazed at him with a hungry, authoritative look and Yifan shrunk away, cheeks heating up. He let the vocalist lead him to his own bedroom, push him gently onto his bed, and climb on top of him. He managed to rid himself of his clothes while kissing Yifan, pulling out lube and a condom from his back pocket.  
  
"I've wanted you for a while," Kyungsoo told him as he slicked his fingers with lubricant. Yifan whimpered and Kyungsoo squeezed the remaining substance onto his hole. The glide wasn't remarkably easy but when he wiggled his finger around inside of him, stretching his walls, Yifan cried out in pleasure. There was a dull ache but it was so good, and the burn of the second finger was even better.  
  
"I've wanted this, too," Yifan managed, choking out a moan as Kyungsoo thrust his fingers in and out of him.  
  
"I know," he leaned over, nibbling his earlobe. He pulled his fingers out and rolled the condom on, coating his cock with the lube that was left over. Kyungsoo gave his ear a sharp tug and he pushed in, past the ring of resistant muscle and buried himself to the hilt. Yifan's breath hitched in his throat, clenching around Kyungsoo's cock.  
  
"Shit, Yifan, you're so tight," he groaned, pumping his hips with effort. "I'm the first one to do this to you, aren't I?" He ran his hand up his torso, thumb flicking against his nipple.  
  
"Yes," he mewled, cock hard against his belly and smearing precum across it. He fucking loved this – he thought that maybe he could even come just like this, with Kyungsoo slamming into him – but he still yearned to be touched. Judging by the way things were going, though, that probably wasn't going to happen.  
  
"Good," Kyungsoo said, pistoning his hips and thrusting up against a spot that made Yifan utter a strangled cry. "So good." _You're good, too,_ he thought faintly, emitting little noises every time the head of Kyungsoo's cock pushed against his prostate. Kyungsoo plowed into him fast and hard, pounding against his ass and his pace relentless as he grew nearer to his orgasm. His hips stuttered to a halt as he came deep inside Yifan, spilling into the condom. He leaned over, kissing him as he finally grasped Yifan's cock and jerked him to completion with quick, tight strokes.  
  
Yifan was given time to come down from his post-orgasm high and readjust while Kyungsoo cleaned them up, settling back into bed next to him. He still felt the remnants of his other high, of course, making him buzz with an energy that hummed beneath his skin. But that was dulled by his being completely fucked out, and Kyungsoo pressed his small body close to his, curling against him. Yifan was in eternal bliss as he slipped an arm around the younger boy's waist.  
  
"Let's date," Kyungsoo spoke up, lips brushing against his shoulder in a lingering kiss.  
  
"Are you just saying that because you're still high?"  
  
Kyungsoo chuckled sleepily, reaching up to stroke Yifan's face. He shuddered lightly at the tenderness of the touch. He'd had enough of unexpected affection for one day; he felt as though his heart would burst.  
  
"No. I want to date you. I like you," he clarified. "Let me take you to dinner or something."  
  
"I'd like that," Yifan admitted. "Are you going to pay?"  
  
"I'll pay you in sex," he said without missing a beat.  
  
"I'd _really_ like that," Yifan replied quickly, making Kyungsoo laugh again.  
  
"Good. It's a deal, then."  
  
"A deal," he echoed, feeling himself begin to drift off. He pulled Kyungsoo closer to him still, letting the younger boy nestle his head into his chest.  
  
He could definitely get used to this. He'd only dreamed of it hundreds of times before, after all.


End file.
